Paper Cranes
by tea-and-outer-space
Summary: "My mom taught me how to make them when I was little, and since then I've just been doing it whenever I get worked up. Some of us like to go get beat up in back alleys, and some of us make paper birds.". In which Bucky makes paper cranes to calm down. Pre and post TWS. Fluffy oneshot, Steve/Bucky (can be seen as shippy or just friendshippy).


Because I make paper cranes to calm down sometimes, and it seems like something Bucky would do too.

Hope you like it!

* * *

Take a square piece of paper.

Fold it diagonally, unfold, rotate, fold it diagonally again.

In half, unfold, in half again.

Bucky licked his thumb before he made the next sharp crease, and carefully concentrated as he tucked two flaps of paper inwards, making a small square.

He heard the door to the apartment open, keys jingling, but he didn't look up. He knew it was Steve, and all he did was make four more creases.

Footsteps, someone stopping by his doorway.  
"Rough day?" Steve said, eyeing the small pile of paper cranes in front of Bucky.

Bucky nodded, and then glanced up from the paper.

"Yeah, things were hectic at work, and... yeah," Bucky said, most of his concentration on the paper. He unfolded a few folds, made a few more creases, and grabbed a pen and drew on two eyes on the finished product.

Another white paper crane.

"Here, you want this one?" he said, holding up the little paper bird.

Steve smiled at him, and took it carefully from his hands. Bucky grabbed another piece of paper from the small stack next to him, and began working on another one.

"I don't really understand how that's 'stress relieving'," Steve commented, looking over the expertly made crane. He never saw someone as good as origami as Bucky, even though all Bucky knew how to make was cranes.

"It just is," Bucky said, "My mom taught me how to make them when I was little, and since then I've just been doing it whenever I get worked up. _Some of us_ like to go get beat up in back alleys, and some of us make paper birds."

Steve chuckled, shook his head softly, and left his best friend to his paper cranes.

* * *

Some seventy years later

Steve sighed as he fished for the keys in his pocket, so he could unlock the apartment door. Bucky was probably (definitely) home and could unlock the door for him, but he didn't feel like bothering him.

Steve knew that the transaction from 'brainwashed assassin' to 'Bucky Barnes' wasn't an easy one, and Bucky was taking it fairly rough, especially the past few months he had been living with Steve.

He wasn't quite whole yet, bits and pieces of memories were still trickling in, and it didn't help that everyone he knew but Steve was dead and gone. He didn't have anything to help him with, and despite Steve's begging that he join a support group or pick up a hobby or just go for a walk, Bucky was rather content to stay in the apartment. Steve was fairly convinced that that wasn't healthy, he couldn't just sit there all day without some kind of outlet.

Steve managed to pull out his keys and unlock the door, and he shut it behind him as he stepped in. He grabbed the mail off of the small table by the door and began to flip through it as he moved to the living room.

_Bill, bill, letter from Peggy, magazine-_

He glanced up from the mail to say hello to Bucky, and found the apartment covered in paper cranes.

Bucky was sitting on the couch, completely caught up in the piece of paper he was shaping beneath his fingers. A few scattered pieces of paper laid next to him, and the coffee table in front of him was completely covered in cranes of various sizes. There were some littering the floor too, and a few on the sofa. All had drawn on eyes, and a few were rather sloppy-looking, but some looked just as perfect as Bucky used to make him.

Steve managed to drag his eyes from the hundreds of paper birds gracing his coffee table to Bucky.

"Um, what?" he said, confusion quite evident in his tone.

Bucky glanced up, finally noting Steve's presence.

He grinned widely, looking like a five-year-old on Christmas day.

"I remembered, Steve," he said, sounding the most excited Steve ever heard him, "I remembered the cranes, and how my mom taught me how to make them, and I practiced a bit and I _remembered_, and I can't believe I forgot the cranes."

He finished another one, and set it amongst the others.

"I, uh, I used up most of the paper in the house, sorry..." he said, sounding only slightly remorseful, as he grabbed another sheet of paper.

He was out of paper and his apartment was covered in paper birds, but Steve smiled anyway, and set down the mail and walked over to the couch.

He pushed a few birds aside and sat down next to Bucky.

If all Bucky would get excited over was paper cranes, he was damn well going to encourage making paper cranes.

"Y'know, you never taught me how to make these," he said, watching how Bucky's hands moved fluidly over the paper.

Bucky smiled again at him, and passed him a sheet of paper.

"First, you take a square piece of paper, and fold it diagonally."


End file.
